


Poetic

by ironicpalmtree



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: By that I mean Gavin lets himself get killed far too much, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, More like enemies to disgruntled co-workers to lovers, Ray and Ryan are the ultimate BrOTP, Spy AU / Assassin's Creed fusion, Temporary Character Death, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, immortal au, minor torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 23:53:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10707780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironicpalmtree/pseuds/ironicpalmtree
Summary: Ryan released a long breath, throwing his hands up in defeat before wrenching out his phone. “Fine,” he muttered, “Fucking fine.” He tapped heavily at the screen, the crack of fingertips against glass almost deafening in the silent room. He slammed the phone down in front of Geoff, entirely surprised when the whole thing didn’t shatter.To: Gavin FreeSorry for shooting you in the face and leaving you dead in the forest with no ride home.My bad.R.----





	1. The sailor

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely happy with this but I figured there was no reason to just leave an 18K story sit on my laptop forever.
> 
> A warning. I didn't want to tag it as self-harm or suicide because technically that's not what it is, but at the same I don't want to catch anyone by surprise.  
> Gavin doesn't take care of himself very well on missions and that's cos he's a bit messed up with some memories and stuff but yeah. Be careful if that stuff don't sit well with you.
> 
> Also - I'm aware I switched around two lines of Plath's poem. The rhyme sounds way better and Sylvia can come fight me if she doesn't agree.
> 
> Other than that enjoy... I guess.

_Dying_

_Is an art, like everything else._

_I do it exceptionally well._

_._

_._

_._

_I do it so it feels real._

_I do it so it feels like hell._

 

 

**i.**

“Bloody hell mate, I’m so sorry!”

Ryan fixed the stranger with an unamused glare as he swiped the spilt coffee from his jacket and jeans.

The other man seemed to shrink further and further into his oversized cardigan as Ryan stared him down. Eventually the Brit cleared his throat awkwardly before bending down to pick up his now empty coffee cup.

Ryan folded his arms over his chest, mouth set in a thin line as he continued to watch the stranger impassively.

“Right!” The Brit bounced back up to his feet, nervously shifting the Styrofoam cup from hand to hand. He stuck out an arm, flinching as Ryan instantly shifted into a combat stance.

“I’m uh…Gavin Free. New agent,” He bit his lip as he continued to get an incredibly minimal response from the older man, “A transfer from the UK syndicate.”

Ryan regarded him coolly for a moment longer before the stench of cheap coffee and milk became too much for him. He ignored the proffered hand and shoved past the new ‘agent’.

“Watch where you’re fucking going next time.”

The Brit squeaked a little as he was pushed to the side, cup falling from his grip once more. “Righto!” He called out to Ryan’s rapidly retreating form, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

**ii.**

“I’d like to welcome our new transfer agent to the department.”

Ryan was most certainly _not_ pouting as Gavin bumbled his way to the front of the meeting room to shake hands with Geoff. He was just confused as to how a clumsy, British idiot could be joining the guild’s prestigious immortal department.

Ray shuffled in his seat next to him, leaning in as he nudged Ryan’s elbow. “Is this guy the reason you’ve been a sulky bitch all morning?”

Ryan slit Ray a nasty glare at that particular accusation. Ryan Haywood _did not_ sulk.

“He spilt coffee all over my favourite jacket.” He whispered back, kicking Ray’s leg under the table as the other agent began to snicker, “I just wasn’t aware we were letting morons into the department these days.”

“Sure, sure.” Ray murmured, making no effort to wipe the amusement from his expression, “So then I didn’t catch you cleaning your jacket with ‘special leather repair’ wipes then?”

Ryan stomped on his foot this time, taking great pleasure in Ray’s suppressed groan. “It cost me over 500 dollars,” he hissed back, “And now it smells like spoilt fucking milk.”

They both turned their attention back to the front as Geoff sent them a disapproving frown. Ray flipped his finger at the guild master before drawing the strings of his hoody tighter and slouching back down into his chair. Ryan at least had the grace to look apologetic.

Geoff released a defeated sigh and shook his head, muttering curses under his breath.

Ryan managed to catch something that sounded a lot like “too old for this” and “motherfucking children”.

Everyone jumped as Jack stood up and slammed a bundle of folders onto the conference table. Geoff grabbed a handful, sleepy eyes lighting up with a vicious glee that Ryan did not trust at all.

“Alright cocksuckers. Time for some team reassignments.”

All the assassins in the room straightened up at that, a low murmur of interest beginning to buzz around the space.

“Oh so now you’re ready to fucking listen.” Geoff rolled his eyes in exasperation before he began to rattle off names and chuck folders across the table.

“Okay; Trevor and Jeremy, Blaine and Jon, Mica and Turney…” Meg shot a heartbroken look at Ryan, who in turn blew a kiss at his now ex-partner.

“Oh this is fucking rich!” Geoff let out a few wheezing gusts of laughter, before flinging a manila file at Michael. “Michael and Gavin.” The guild master managed to get the names out between giggles as Michael’s face began to grow red.

There was a solid _thump_ as the Jersey assassin drew the knife that was strapped to his wrist and threw it at the table. The blade was still quivering when Michael shoved himself away from the table and stomped from the room.

Gavin, who was still standing awkwardly at the head of the table, looked positively mortified at his new partner’s reaction. He jumped when Jack clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, he actually took it much better than expected.”

Ray was still smirking absently at the door when Ryan gave him a slight nudge. The smaller agent gave him a curious look before reaching to wrench Michael’s blade from the meeting table.

“Hey, are you okay?” Ryan raised his voice slightly so Ray could hear him over the din of conversation in the room.

“Me?” Ray feigned confusion, “Fucking peachy.” He began to twirl the knife between his fingers, faking nonchalance as the razor-sharp blade twisted over his knuckles.

“Ray…” Ryan fixed him with a serious look, “You and Michael were like brothers. Surely you don’t want the dream team to break up.”

“Eh,” The Puerta-Rican gave an exaggerated shrug as he flipped the knife up into the air and caught the tip between two fingers, “Team Better Friends will ride again I’m sure.”

They both flinched as a folder landed in the middle of them.

“And last and most definitely least - you two idiots.” Geoff gave a heavy roll of his eyes as Ray flipped yet another finger at him. “Alright bitches, meeting over. Go…stab a bad guy or something.”

“Huh.” Ray stated intelligently, looking down at the ‘ ** _Ryan Haywood and Ray Narvaez Jr._** ’ that was printed over the top of their mission brief. “Now I have no reason to be upset. R&R connection for life.”

He raised his hand in an obvious request for a fist bump which Ryan begrudgingly gave with a sigh.

A muffled clang echoed behind them and they spun to catch Gavin picking himself up from the ground. Ray snickered and Ryan loosed a derisive snort as the Brit limped to the door.

Tan cheeks coloured quickly as Gavin realised he’d had witnesses of his clumsiness and he gave them a nervous grin. “Bloody table leg eh?” He gave a watery chuckle and one hand reached up to scrub at his flaming face, “Didn’t even see it there.”

“Totally dude.” Ray deadpanned, trying his best to look sympathetic, “That shit comes out of nowhere.”

The relieved smile on Gavin’s face told Ryan clearly that the Brit had not caught the sarcasm and he laughed again as the transfer left the room.

Ray started to giggle as well, slapping Ryan on the arm as he tried to speak. “Oh man,” he gasped out, eyes watering slightly, “Michael can rest in fucking pieces.”

 

**iii.**

“How’s the new partner going?”

Ryan couldn’t _quite_ keep the self-satisfied smirk off his face as Michael turned to give him his trade-mark ‘don’t fuck with me or I will disembowel you’ expression.

The Jersey assassin heaved in a huge breath, freckled cheeks beginning to take on new shades of red as he prepared for his rant.

“Dude, like what the fuck? Who the in the motherfucking fuck is this piece of shit and how in the hell did he even get into this program? I’ve never met a bigger asshole in my life. Doesn’t even talk proper English and has no fucking idea how to use a firearm…”

Ryan nodded sympathetically as the agent continued his rant, hiding his smile in a few victorious slurps of coffee.

“ ‘ _Oooo but Micoo!’_ this and ‘ _Ahh no Micoo!_ ’ that! Who the fuck even speaks like that? And you better fucking believe he’s immortal, and he better be thanking his fucking British stars that he is. We’ve had five missions. Five. And the little shit has managed to die three times already! Twice in one fucking mission Ryan! Twice. In one. Fu-freaking mission.”

The younger agent’s chest heaved as he tries to regain the copious amount of oxygen he just expended and Ryan waited for his face to begin looking less like an overinflated tomato before speaking.

“Mm.” He tried to put as much concern and pity into the noise as possible before letting a shit-eating grin crack his face. “Me and Ray are going great though.”

Michael promptly threw the rest of his soda on Ryan’s face before striding from the room.

 

**iv.**

“Status report!”

Ray’s high pitched whisper crackled in Ryan’s ear piece as he scrambled up the old factory wall. He ignored him for the moment, instead focusing on the rough brick beneath his palms.

Strong fingers latched onto the tiniest of handholds and the spikes in his shoes dug into the old, crumbling building with barely any effort. Ryan could hear voices above him – guards patrolling the flat expanse of the roof. A spike of adrenaline flowed through him and he allowed himself a savage grin as the blades at his wrists slid out.

“Ryan!” Ray hissed, a more frantic tone decorating his voice, “I can’t fucking see you. Status report now!”

His hands were now creeping over the ledge of the building, legs tucked up under himself to create a stable launching point. Ryan tucked his mouth into his shoulder, muffling his reply back to the other assassin.

“Engaging in t minus 5 seconds.”

Ray gave an affirmative hum and Ryan briefly entertained the thought that he could feel the other’s sniper scope aimed at his back before he tensed his thighs and threw himself over the ledge.

He landed with a slight crunch on the gravelled surface, crouching low so as not to be caught in the spotlight that swung along the length of the rooftop. The guards were facing the other way, guns trained on the ladder that connected the top of the building to the fire-escape two storeys below.

Ryan shook his head in amusement, creeping closer to the huddle of thugs. An assassin _never_ takes the obvious route.

“Dude.” Ray whispered, Ryan paused in his advance, lowering both his hidden blades. He could hear shuffling and several disgruntled breaths as the other assassin undoubtedly changed position. “I’ve got the two on the left, twenty bucks if you can take down the other four before they fire a shot.”

Ryan laughed quietly, confident in the fact that the noise would be masked by the crisp wind blowing around him. “Really Narvaez, at this point it’s just charity.”

With that he sprung from his hiding place behind the air-conditioning units and leapt into the air. He flipped neatly, enjoying the sting of cold night air on his exposed cheeks before coming down heavily on two unsuspecting guards.

He knocked both to the ground, burying his blades in their backs before wrenching upwards and whirling to face his two other startled opponents. He darted forward before the first could even finish his confused shout, slamming his knife between the third and fourth rib.

The thug gurgled slightly as blood began filling his lungs and Ryan dropped him to the ground. He spun to face the last man, who was clumsily trying to flick the safety off his SMG with shaking fingers. Ryan stepped forward calmly, jamming one blade through the throat and the other into his side.

The guard convulsed slightly, a few choked breaths escaping him before he dropped his gun and fell to his knees.

Ryan withdrew both blades, stepping back and glancing round to survey his handiwork. The gravel surrounding him was stained a muddied brown, more blood pooling across it as the wounds Ryan had inflicted continued to leak sluggishly. Ray’s targets were both slumped by the ladder, one neat bullet hole in each of their temples.

“You better pay up this time Ray.” Ryan chuckled, crouching down by one of the thugs to begin searching for the required access card, “And no, you can’t pay me in future blow jobs.”

There was a hitch of breath in his ear piece before Ray made an aborted call of his name. The distant crack of the other’s rifle made Ryan spin around, one bloodied blade raised while he fumbled for his silenced pistol.

Three shots fired and Ryan stumbled backwards as they thudded into him – neck, shoulder, chest. The shadowy attacker walked closer, features shrouded by a deep cowl - much like Ryan’s own. They quickly snatched the key card from his belt before sprinting for the ladder.

Things were starting to grow blurry and muffled, and Ryan was already experiencing the familiar floaty feeling that he associated with death. Dimly, he could hear Ray shouting in his hear and the rattle as his unknown assailant made it down to the fire escape.

He held on for a moment longer, enjoying the numbness that seeped from his limbs and into his chest. Ryan couldn’t help but feel vaguely pissed; now he owed Ray 30 dollars for dying before June.

 

**v.**

_The gale howled around him, tugging at the main sail with intermittent gusts. The ship lurched uncertainly in the choppy water, rising quickly on the large swell before dropping heavily back down into the wide troughs._

_Rain drove heavily against the deck, drumming on the splintering wood with relentless rhythm. Ryan wrenched at the wheel, fruitlessly trying to wrestle the ship from the storm’s grasp._

_“Haywood!” The captain screamed as he frantically tried to tie down one of the sails. The wind ripped the rope from his grasp and the canvas pulled taut as churning air filled it once more. The ship began to teeter sideway, the rudder underneath no match for the combined strength of the tempest._

_“Haywood!” The captain yelled again, stumbling over the pitching deck to help him struggle with the wheel, “We have to put it on a starboard tack! We’re gonna sail right into that whirlpool!”_

_Ryan glanced up just long enough to see the churning mass of water that lay before them. It rose and fell in unsteady waves, spinning and swirling upon the call of the wind._

_“STARBOARD TACK!” Ryan roared, tugging at the wheel as the sailors on the lower deck scrambled to pull the boom across._

_The ship gave an almighty groan as it was wrenched in two directions – the current of the whirlpool snagging the stern while a screaming gust of wind pushed it forward._

_There was a loud crack before the entire vessel began tipping sideways and water flooded into the now broken hull._

_Ryan lost his footing on the rain-soaked decked, stumbling backwards as the ship reached a near vertical tilt. He fell forwards, cracking his head on the gunwale before plunging below the thrashing whitewash and into the dark and swirling depths._

_He struggled viciously, limbs tangled in the pile of rigging that had fallen with him._

_His flailing became weaker as he sank deeper, the water growing ever colder._

_He closed his eyes and allowed himself a breath. Icy liquid filled his burning lungs and his mind began to flicker out._

_And so another sailor was claimed by the sea._

**vi.**

“You owe me thirty bucks.”

Ray was crouching over him on the roof as Ryan came to with a large gasp. He gave a weak grin to the younger assassin, grunting as he sat up and began examining himself.

The bullets had already popped themselves out of his flesh, the only remaining evidence of their punctures were three rapidly fading scars and the congealed blood that stained his skin.

“Fuck.” Ryan groaned, the pounding headache that always followed his re-awakenings was already picking up its vicious rhythm.

“Well actually only ten, because I owed you twenty for killing all those goons like a boss.” Ray continued, rocking on the balls of his feet and pretending like his partner had not just come back to life right in front of him.

“Did you at least get the asshole that shot me?” Ryan growled out as he dusted the gravel from his chest and knees.

Ray scoffed a little, shuffling his feet self-consciously as he looked away from the older agent’s bleary gaze.

“No…” He mumbled, shoving his hands inside his hoody pockets, “Missed him with my first shot – you probably heard that – and he was long gone by the time I parkoured my ass over here.”

Ryan gave a displeased grunt, picking up his discarded pistol before he began to stand up slowly. Ray grabbed onto his arm when he started to sway slightly, still dizzy from the blood loss and the whole, you know, _getting shot to death._

Ray squeezed a little tighter and Ryan glanced at him curiously. The Puerta-Rican had his bottom lip between his teeth and a gloved hand was pulling nervously at the bottom of his cowl. “Look man…” Ray paused, considering his words carefully before ploughing onwards again, “I’m so fucking sorry. I should have been doing a perimeter check and I shouldn’t have missed that damn shot in the first place. It won’t happen again dude I swear…”

“Ray.” Ryan interrupted gently, pulling at the younger man’s death grip around his arm lightly, “It’s totally fine. Accidents happen, don’t sweat it.”

They made their way over to the ladder, Ryan not trusting himself to be able to get down the building without structured rungs for him to grip at. Ray slipped over the side first, compact sniper bouncing against his back as he nimbly scaled down the wall.

“Still dude, I feel so fucking guilty.” Ray called up from the fire escape as Ryan began his descent, “I’ll pay you back with like 100 blow jobs I swear.”

Ryan snorted at that, his shaking limbs slipping slightly on the cold metal ladder as he neared the landing. “Now Ray, what did I say about using hypothetical blow jobs as a currency?”

Ray gave a childish huff, shooting Ryan an unimpressed look from beneath the shadow of his hood. “Fine you party-pooper. No blow jobs.”

 

**vii.**

“Heard you carked it on mission.”

Ryan looked up from the depths of his coffee just long enough to shoot Gavin a venomous look. The Brit only smiled benignly back, legs swinging childishly as he perched on the bench.

Like the little shit didn’t know he causing trouble.

“I wouldn’t feel bad about it.” Gavin seemed completely oblivious to Ryan’s less than favourable reaction, gazing curiously around the break room as he forged on with the conversation. “I’ve fallen off the perch like ten times since I’ve got here. Bloody hell, you won’t believe this- ” Gavin turned his big, green eyes on Ryan, boyish grin making his cheeks dimple as he stuttered out a laugh.

“Once, I died twice-”

“In one mission. I heard. And don’t fret, I certainly believed it.” Ryan cut into the Brit’s story smoothly, resisting the urge to smile in satisfaction at the offended look that crossed the foreign assassin’s face.

Gavin seemed at a loss for words, his great beak of a nose crinkling in what Ryan surmised was his version of indignation.

Ryan gave a disdainful snort for good measure before downing the rest of his drink and slinking out of the breakroom.

“Oi!” Gavin called or, more accurately, squawked out, “Are you always such a massive prick or am I just special?”

“Oh, you’re definitely the determining factor.” Ryan threw the words back over his shoulder, resisting the urge to fire off finger pistols – Ray was having far too big an influence on him.

He rounded the corner to find said partner leaning against the wall, arms folded and an idiotic smirk plastered across his face.

“What?” Ryan drawled, not even bothering to pause as he passed the smaller agent. He heard the squeak of Vans against floorboards as Ray struggled to catch up with his lengthened strides. Ryan turned around to find Ray still grinning knowingly at him.

He rolled his eyes and made an annoyed grunt, sighing heavily when the Puerta Rican jogged ahead so he could walk backwards and still pull faces at Ryan. “ _Oh, you’re definitely the determining factor.”_

Ray’s imitation was quite poor by Ryan’s standards – far too high pitched and breathy. Still, he reached out and shoved Ray into the wall, taking great satisfaction in the muffled thud and ‘oof’ that followed his action.

“What’s your point?” He spat behind him, still resolutely making his way towards the agency barracks.

Ray once again jogged to catch up with him, this time pointedly staying out of shoving range. “I just didn’t realise you were a 13-year-old girl in disguise.” He backed a little further away when Ryan shot him a withering glare. “Seriously dude just bang him, get out all that sexual-tension and move on with your life.”

Ryan paused, turning slowly to fix Ray with an unimpressed look. “…What?” He deadpanned, flicking Ray in the ear when the younger tried to reach up and squeeze his cheeks.

“Oh come on! Like you haven’t noticed.” Ray gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes when Ryan shook his head slowly. “Big, green eyes…bronzed skin…that sexy British inflection.” Ray jumped out of the way of Ryan’s loose fist, laughing as the other continued to make disgruntled noises.

“No Ray. I didn’t notice any of that.” Ryan scowled as Ray danced ahead of him singing under his breath. He distinctly heard a ‘k-i-s-s-i-n-g’ before the smaller agent danced out of earshot.

“I mean it!” He called out, swallowing thickly as Ray’s descriptions echoed back in his head. “He’s an idiot. A liability to the whole god damn syndicate!”

Faint laughter filtered down the hallway, followed by an even fainter shout.

“ _A liability with a great ass though!_ ”

 

**viii.**

“Michael watch the south entrance, three personnel approaching.”

Ryan stood slightly back from the monitors, watching quietly as Ray spun between them, speaking regularly into the head set.

He heard the chatter of gunfire echo through Ray’s headphones, followed by some disgruntled shouting.

_“Thanks Ray. Couldn’t have told me that five fucking minutes ago? You know, BEFORE they started shooting!?”_

Ray only giggled at the scathing remark, pushing over to another computer screen to watch Gavin breaking into the facility from the roof.

“Gav keep quiet, there’s a whole squad in the room below you.”

The British assassin hummed an affirmative before breaking from his cover and streaking towards the stairs.

Ryan leaned forward unconsciously, enraptured by the lithe grace that Gavin seemed to possess. He was almost invisible in the half-gloom of the third floor, only glimpsed for a second as he dashed through strips of pale moonlight.

Ray shuffled back over to Michael’s screen, whispering urgently to the Jersey agent as he struggled through a fire fight.

Gavin, on the other hand, continued uninterrupted, slipping through a stairwell window and beginning to scale the downpipe that dropped the length of the building.

Ryan pulled a desk chair over and sat beside Ray, eyes glued to the drone camera that was tracking Gavin. He heard a slight snort from his partner and he flipped him off quickly, never looking away from the screen.

Ryan was, mainly, confused. Was this the same agent who currently had a designated ‘n number of days since Gavin last died’ sign hanging on the wall? He looked like a well-trained, ruthless assassin at the present moment, not the incompetent idiot that had been goofing around the syndicate for the past three months.

_Perhaps I judged too quickly._

“Michael you’re gonna get pinned down if you don’t move _now!_ ” Ray hissed into the headset, fingers scrambling rapidly over the keyboard as he switched to a more top-down perspective of Michael’s position.

The curly haired assassin made a negative sounding grunt which was soon drowned out by the rattle of bullets as his cover was fired upon. “ _Okay…_ ” He panted out, turning around to shoot a glare at the security camera sitting high on the south-facing wall, “ _I can fucking handle this but I’ll move if bitch-vis tells me to._ ”

Ray snickered, glancing quickly at the other monitor to check Gavin’s progress. “Dude, tell me you did _not_ just try and make and Ironman pun.”

Ryan switched his gaze to the cameras following Michael to catch him simultaneously flipping off the camera and blind-firing over the top of his cover. _“Yeah I did. Bitch-vis. Get it? Like Jarvis, ‘cos all you do is say meaningless shit and cramp on Ironman’s style.”_

“And in what universe would you ever be Ironman? You’re too dumb for that.”

“ _Excuse me I could totally be Ironman. Better than being Hawkeye! Like having a good aim is even a fucking superpower.”_

Ryan nudged Ray, stabbing his finger at the two mercenaries currently inching their way towards Michael’s position. The assassin was too busy making crude hand gestures at the two cameras facing him to notice.

Ray shot a grateful look at Ryan and adjusted his headset. “Okay Ironman,” he cut off Michael’s rant quickly, masking his panic with a steady voice, “You better have an escape mechanism in that suit because you’re about three seconds away from being pumped full of lead.”

The Jersey assassin cursed, throwing his gun away with a clatter as his last clip emptied. “ _Right. Grenade off in t minus 5 seconds…sorry Gav.”_

Ryan’s brow furrowed in confusion at the apology as Michael lobbed the explosive over the packing crate he was crouched behind. He swivelled back towards the screen displaying Gavin – the Brit had made it down to the third floor by now, near enough to Michael’s position to hear and feel the explosion.

There was a _boom_ as the grenade went off, rattling the building and sending Michael’s assailants flying.  The downpipe Gavin was clinging to visibly shook and the metal rang with the resounding rumbles that ran through the walls.

Gavin was frozen.

Ryan leaned forward, watching as the foreign agent barely even registered Ray’s frantic shouts through the comms. Guards higher up in the building had noticed the assassin’s descent and were leaning out an upper floor window to take pot-shots at the stationary man.

A bullet landed in Gavin’s shoulder, another in his upper torso and finally the transfer agent moved. He let out a frightened yell before both hands let go of the pipe and he plummeted to the ground. Another bullet hit him in the chest on the way down, and Ryan winced as he landed on the tarmac with a bone-sickening crunch.

The camera flickered intermittently and Ryan crowded in closer, nose almost pressed to the screen. Something that felt vaguely like concern filtered through him. The Brit lay still, neck bent at an awkward angle and blood pooling across his chest. He was very clearly dead.

Ray sighed, standing up and shuffling over to the whiteboard. He picked up the eraser and rubbed off the 11 written above the ‘days since Gavin last died’ and replaced it with a zero.

“Michael,” the Puerta Rican grumbled, dropping back down heavily into his office chair, “Free is gonna need a pick-up.”

 

**ix.**

“And that’s time.”

Ray was sitting up on a weapons crate, legs swinging as he scrolled mindlessly on his phone. Ryan stood on the training floor, chest heaving and t-shirt stained with sweat. Surrounding him were several practice dummies, hessian sack bodies slashed into tatters by both Ryan’s throwing knives and wrist blades.

Ryan panted for several more seconds, walking around the mannequins and snagging his carbon fibre knives from the chest and heads of his ‘victims’. “How many?” He called out, voice surprisingly hoarse.

“22 in 2 minutes.” Ray didn’t even bother looking up from his phone, the flickering light on the screen drowning out all colour from his face.

Ryan sighed, shaking his head as he packed away his gym bag. “Please tell me you’re not on Pornhub again.” The older man held the door open, waiting for Ray to climb down and join him.

“Nah dude, Crossy Road all the way.” He looked up for a split second to sidestep the door frame before his eyes were back on the screen. “Michael just beat my high score and I’ve gotta show him his place.”

Ryan rolled his eyes but still curiously leaned forward, only to witness a block penguin getting pasted by a train. Ray sucked in air through his teeth, stabbing his finger at the phone to restart the game.

Ryan snorted, shouldering his bag and walking ahead of Ray. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. Seriously Ray, you kill people for a living.”

“This is totally syndicate-assigned training.” Ray had gone monotone again, eyes glazed as he tapped rapidly on the glass. “Geoff wants me to get my reflexes up.”

Ryan paused at a junction in the hallway, intending to make a detour to the kitchen before heading to bed. “Bullshit.”

Ray kept on walking, stumbling slightly as his feet caught on an uneven floorboard. Ryan caught a mumbled, “Totally not bullshit bro.” before the younger man disappeared around the corner.

Ryan yanked open the fridge when he got the kitchen, eyes tracking over stacks of take out containers and pizza boxes that were shoved haphazardly inside. A hacking cough sounded somewhere behind him and Ryan whirled around, still tense from his training session.

Gavin was sat up on the counter, wrapped in an oversized cardigan and scarf. His nose was red and dripping, eyes watering slightly as he took a sip from his favourite chipped mug.

Ryan turned back to the fridge, grabbing a half empty carton of Pad Thai before shuffling over to the microwave. Both men sat in silence, listening to the hum of the appliance and the occasional spitting of hot oil and noodles.

“Hey.” Gavin croaked out, slurping loudly from his cup. Ryan glanced at him, narrowing his eyes a little when the other jumped off the counter to come stand beside him.

Ryan shoved his hands in his trackpant pockets, only to pull them out again when the microwave began beeping. “Evening,” He finally replied, moving over to the table and dumping his food, “You sick or something?”

Gavin shrugged, slumping down into the chair across from Ryan. “Something like that.”

Ryan shot him a confused look, tucking his fork into the mound of noodles and digging in with relish. “What does that mean?”

The Brit took his time to answer, staring into the dregs of his tea as he seemingly cleared his throat enough to talk. “My body doesn’t take so well to resurrecting itself so often. So, its decided to not let me sleep or eat or-” he broke off to pull a handkerchief from his pocket and blow his nose several times, “Or you know, let me breathe.”

Ryan nodded along, mouth far too full of rice noodles and chicken to respond. Gavin got back up to brew himself another cup of tea. “That sucks.” Ryan finally forced out, not entirely comfortable with the fact that the conversation was occurring in the first place.

Gavin hummed an affirmative before turning his attention back to the tea. The room was filled with the tinkle of metal against ceramic as he stirred a dollop of honey in. “You want one?” The Brit asked suddenly, gesturing awkwardly at his mug when Ryan continued to look blankly at him. “It’s camomile…helps you sleep.”

Ryan shook his head, scraping up the last of his Pad Thai and standing to take his dishes to the over-stacked dishwasher. “I’ve heard a good cure for your sickness is something called a self-preservation instinct.”

Gavin gave a croaky sort of laugh which ended in a pitiful hacking cough, leaving him doubled over and leaning on the counter. Ryan went to step forward and…thump him on the back or something but decided against it.

“I’ll work on it.” Gavin finally husked out, wrapping his hands around his mug and shuffling to the door. “It’s not as simple as you might think.”

Blue eyes met green, barely even visible in the dim oven-clock light that pervaded the room. All Ryan could hear was his own heavy breathing and the intermittent dripping of the kitchen tap. Eventually Gavin forced a wonky smile and backed out of the room, calling out a quiet “G’night Rye” over his shoulder.

Ryan took some time to rinse his dishes and pour out the water Gavin had left behind in the kettle. “Yeah,” he said to no one in particular, “Night Gav.”

 

**x.**

“It’s a partner swap.”

Geoff was met with silence from the two assassins, and he felt increasingly uncomfortable under the two hardened gazes that were pinned on him. Two pairs of arms folded across well-muscled chests and Geoff swore he caught a near-silent huff from one of the stoic pair.

“A partner swap.”

Michael repeated, clicking his tongue hard on the ‘p’. Geoff nodded enthusiastically, splaying his sweaty hands out on the meeting table.

“Yeah. You got it, what do you guys think?”

Michael bit his lip, cheeks reddening slightly as he continued to glare his way through Geoff. The guild master chose to look at Ryan instead, but it appeared both assassins were in the mood for an intense staring competition.

The elder agent finally broke the silence, simultaneously dropping Geoff’s gaze to glance at Michael – Geoff resisted the need to crow out his victory as the greatest starer that had ever lived – “So me and Michael are…partners?”

Geoff giggled a little at that, leaning back in his chair to avoid spraying the other two men with the _occasional_ fleck of saliva. He took a breath, recovering himself with a shake of his head. “No, of course not.”

“So…” Michael leant forward, lacing his fingers together tightly, “Me and…Ray?” Ryan flinched a little at the mention of the young agent’s name.

Geoff nodded again, reaching behind him to chuck Michael’s new mission log at him. He didn’t miss the deepening of Ryan’s scowl as he caught sight of the ‘ ** _Michael Jones and Ray Narvaez Jr._** _’_ stamped across the top.

The ugly grimace was nothing compared to the thunderous expression that settled on his face when Geoff chucked the ‘ ** _Ryan Haywood and Gavin Free_** ’ labelled file into his lap.

“You can’t be serious.” Ryan’s eyes hardened as glanced back up at Geoff; the barely suppressed grin that sent his moustache quivering did not seem to impress the assassin.

Ryan sat in silence for a moment, nodding his head slightly while he pushed the file around the table. Slowly, his fist clenched on the top of the manila folder. “Are you.” he began quietly, voice almost a growl, “Fucking KIDDING ME?!”

Geoff flinched at the sudden raise in volume, moving back away from the table when Ryan stood and leaned towards him. “Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?” His reply was shrill, mainly in response to the sheaf of knives he spotted buckled to the front of the assassin’s belt.

“I’m your top god damn assassin Geoff! What kind of bullshit is this putting me with _him_.” Ryan drew himself up now, arms folded over his chest.

Geoff stood up too, all joking grins and light-hearted humour gone in the face of stone-faced authority. Ryan quickly ceased his posturing but refused to drop the glare. “Yes, Haywood – you are my top ‘god damn’ agent and as my number one man you take my orders and follow them like the good little assassin you are.”

Ryan’s eyes darkened considerably and he bared his teeth at the older man. He looked down at Michael, gesturing impatiently for him to voice his own opinion.

The Jersey agent made a few vague sounding noises, waving his hands in the air as he opened his mouth and let out a long “Eh….”.

Ryan snarled a little and Michael straightened up quick-fast – Geoff caught his eyes also wandering to the pack of knives at the older assassin’s belt. “Well…” He began, fingers wiggling and knee starting to bounce up and down. “I think his style of operation might suit you better. I mean me and Ray are like a well-oiled machine but Gav and I are…more like a tractor that’s gone out of commission.”

Ryan was silent, biting his lip to the point that blood beaded out from beneath his incisors. “Okay.” He said, deep voice straining to maintain the deathly calm. “Alright.”

He made for the door, ripping it from its hinges with barely a flick of his upper arm. Geoff whistled between his teeth and made a mental note to never challenge Ryan to an arm-wrestling competition. Ever.

Ryan paused on his way out, eyes glittering dangerously as he looked back at the other two assassins. “Fuck the both of you.”

 

**xi.**

“You get a million dollars but you gotta sneeze with your knob.”

Ryan grit his teeth, tightening his grip on his suppressed SMG as he resisted the urge to fire it at the ceiling…or himself.

Gavin was nervous, that was very evident. He fidgeted as much as he could in his crouched position, slender fingers drumming a mindless pattern over his silenced pistol. His eyes danced all over the room they were hiding in, jumping from place to place in time with the whispering of steel as the Brit slid his hidden blade in and out of its sheaf.

“Gavin.” Ryan spat out, a quiet hiss in the gloom and the silence of the storage room. “Shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down. They’re gonna hear you and the whole mission will be blown.”

Gavin stilled immediately, the shadows not hiding his sheepish expression and big, shining eyes. “Sorry.” He mumbled, tucking his head down and shuffling towards the corner, “I’ll stop.”

Ryan breathed a sigh of relief, and returned to his task of listening by the door. The target should be entering any minute now – he slid out his blade in anticipation. Faint footsteps and a high-pitched giggle echoed from far down the hallway and both assassins pulled their cowls up in an almost choreographed motion.

The door was shoved clumsily open, warm light spilling into the room and both agents shrunk back into the shadows.

A tall man - slicked back hair and wearing a cashmere sweater - stumbled into the room, pulling a woman – far too young by Ryan’s standards and clearly intoxicated – with him. She giggled again, pushing platinum blonde hair out of her face and pulling a cherry-red lip between perfect white teeth as her companion began sliding his hands up the slits of her dress.

Ryan rose silently, and stepped gracefully forwards to slide his knife up between ribs. He grinned as he felt the resistance of the man’s lungs give way and the blade jolted forward to pierce his heart. Lover boy gasped into the girl’s mouth and she let out a breathless laugh which soon turned into a shriek as he coughed blood all over her face.

Ryan withdrew his blade quickly and dropped his now dead target to the ground. The girl was seemingly shocked to silence, baby blues welling up as she gazed up at what seemed to be death itself.

He raised a finger to his lips and hushed quietly as she began to whimper. He stepped over the body and hurried from the room, rushing to meet Gavin who was hopefully already stalking their next target.

His footsteps were near silent as he made his way down the hallway, drowned out by the thudding bass and drunken chatter filtering up from the party on the ground floor. Ryan froze as voices and the click of boots against wood broke through the music.

The assassin dropped soundlessly into a crouch, slinking over towards an open window. The glass was smudged with fingerprints and the paint on the lower frame was chipped and scratched by a blade. Ryan smiled – it seemed he had found Gavin’s exit route.

He slipped outside, cowl and cloak protecting him against the rough wind that buffeted the building. Spiked shoes dug into crumbling concrete and calloused fingers instinctually found their way towards cracks and divots in the wall. A single gunshot and muffled shouts from above sent Ryan scrambling into action.

He scrabbled up the wall, spotting an open fourth floor window three metres above. Ryan took a breath, digging his feet into the wall and coiling backwards before he sprung up, flying for a brief moment. An outstretched arm caught the top of the sill and he locked his elbow, pulling himself up and in through the window.

He rolled neatly, landing in a crouch before instantly springing to the side to take cover behind an upturned table. Gavin was pressed against the back of the same table, tucked into a ball in an attempt to avoid the spraying lines of bullets.

Ryan smoothly pulled the SMG from his back strap, flicking off the safety and moving towards the side of the table. “I’ll do covering fire, you take out the closest two.” Ryan barely even looked at the other assassin while he adjusted his sight and centred himself.

The Brit made a negative sounding grunt, shifting awkwardly in his tucked-up position. Ryan paused, turning slowly to face his partner. “Is there a problem?” He hissed, reflexively shoving Gavin down as a burst of bullets split the wood above their heads.

“ ‘M not the best with guns.” Gavin mumbled into his own knees, shooting Ryan a nervous side-glance.

“What!?” The older man snarled, turning away briefly to spray some detouring gunfire over the top of the table. “What do you mean you’re not good with guns? You’re a professional fucking assassin!”

Gavin shrugged his shoulders after another bout of blind-fire from Ryan. The older man rolled his eyes heavily, fixing Gavin with his most vicious glare as he shoved a new magazine into his SMG. “I cannot believe this.” He grumbled, feeling immense satisfaction when the Brit seemed to shrink in on himself even more. “This is so fucking rich.”

The older man heaved in a huge breath, smothering down his rising irritation and focusing back in on the mission. “This is fine. I’ve had useless partners before. Just stay out of my way, and try not get shot.” Ryan very nearly spat in the foreign agent’s face before he turned to take a few precise shots at the bodyguards who were crouched further down the hall.

Gavin made another one of those indignant squawks that made Ryan’s eyes roll even harder, before he rose onto bent knees. “I said I wasn’t great with firearms. Not that I was useless.” The older man didn’t even acknowledge the comment, choosing instead to continue his methodical and precise effort to shoot down the half-dozen guards.

Gavin huffed in frustration before standing fully and breaking from cover. _That_ got Ryan’s attention.

“Gavin!” He shouted after the younger man, quickly falling speechless as the Brit sprinted up the length of the corridor, paying no heed to the multiple bullets that pierced his body.

Gavin flicked his wrists violently to slide both blades out, cowl falling back from his head as he ran up the side of the wall and pushed himself into the air. Ryan popped his head out of cover, mouth open as the Brit twisted almost gracefully mid-flight before landing heavily on two of the guards and shoving his blades through their necks.

The other men continued to fire and the assassin stumbled heavily as he struggled to get to his feet. Still, he managed to take down the four other men before falling to his knees, blooding gushing from the near dozen wounds that littered his body.

The door at the end of the hallway opened and a another man walked out. Ryan recognised him instantly. Pin-striped suit pressed into lines so razor sharp they could slice skin, thick, greasy locks of hair swept back into a bun and sharp eyes, near-black and glinting with an eager cruelty.

Target number two.

Ryan readied his gun but couldn’t break from cover quick enough to stop the man from raising a silver-gilded pistol and firing clean through Gavin’s head. Ryan forced away his natural concern for the other man and stepped forward confidently, firing in quick succession to hit the man in the head, neck and torso.

The silence was jarring after so many minutes of continuous gunfire and Ryan felt dizzy for a moment. He slung his gun on his back, walking calmly forward to kneel beside Gavin’s prone form.

The bullets were already beginning to pop out, the blood which was splattered all around the Brit’s body and across his chest draining back into his quickly closing wounds. In a few minutes, he would wake.

Ryan sat back on his thighs, clutching at his arms as he tried to sort out his turbulent thoughts. The kid was an idiot, that much was 100 percent certain. His tactics were unsustainable, stupid and frankly a risk to the whole operation. The elder assassin shook his head, trying to control his rising anger. Still, after all that, Gavin had just literally _killed himself_ to spare Ryan.

Dark lashes fluttered slightly before the Brit’s eyes snapped open. Gavin gasped and lurched forward, swaying slightly into Ryan as blood rushed back through his veins.

Ryan stood up and Gavin fell forward, letting out a pained grunt. “Can you get up?” Ryan gruffed out after several seconds of listening to the foreign assassin’s laboured breathing.

Gavin groaned, struggling to his knees while he brushed dried blood from his face.

“Yeah…yeah. Bollocks, just give me a minute.”

 

**xii.**

“So, you wanna tell me what that was back there?”

The two assassins had escaped the mansion in silence and had continued that trend while they shoved their way through a thicket of bushes and low-hanging branches in order to reach the get-away vehicle planted by Ray.

Gavin didn’t answer immediately, concentrating instead on removing the veritable mass of spider web that had found its way into his hair. “Sure”. He finally bit out, so aggressively that Ryan faltered in his steady trudge through the scrub. “What do you want me to say?”

“Well, you could give me a straight answer about why the hell you won’t use a gun or a logical explanation about how using yourself as a living meat-shield is a viable tactic.” Ryan spoke with as much venom as Gavin, finally allowing all his frustration to come pouring back.

Gavin shoved violently at a branch, snapping the thick bough clean in half as they finally pushed their way through the bush and onto the road. The car was only a few metres away but neither of the agents made to move towards it. “Excuse me.” Gavin breathed, narrowing his eyes at Ryan and scowling heavily, “For getting shot fifty bloody times so you could sit your ass behind the table before taking all the glory.”

“Glory!” Ryan repeated incredulously, straightening up and squaring his shoulders. Gavin refused to back down, posturing right back at the older man despite the few inches of height he was lacking. “I can’t believe you think there’d be any glory to take after going on a mission with _you_. You are legitimately the most useless assassin I have _ever_ worked with.”

Gavin scoffed, throwing his hands in the air in hapless exasperation before turning towards the car. “You’re unbelievable.”

“ _I’m unbelievable?_ ” Ryan exclaimed, following Gavin around to the other side of the car, “You’re the one who has no fucking care for your body. Who somehow can’t use weapons or grasp basic mission protocol. You are the most unfathomable person I’ve ever met and you call me unbelievable!?”

They both stood with hands on hips, glaring each other down and Ryan wanted to laugh in hysterical disbelief. If he hadn’t been so irrationally angry he would have made a comment about how ‘cliché TV couple’ this whole situation was.

Gavin dropped his gaze a moment later, snorting as he flicked his hands from his hips and backed a few further steps away. “I feel like a 50 year-old married couple.”

Ryan’s lips twitched but he allowed the joke to fall flat, watching as Gavin’s whole expression hardened once again. Walls came slamming up and all vulnerability seemed to vanish from his face. Ryan was struck by how _angry_ the Brit suddenly looked.

“You do not know _anything_ about me Haywood. So don’t judge me and stop criticising my every bloody move.” He stabbed an accusing finger at the older man, lips twisting into an ugly sneer. “Don’t assume you’re the only one who’s unhappy with this whole arrangement. I think you were right before, this whole thing will work out if you stay out of my way and I, yours.”

Later, Ryan wouldn’t be able to sufficiently describe what exactly came over him. Gavin was staring at him with such venom and defiance.

And. It. Infuriated him.

He reached around and snapped his SMG forward, setting the barrel to aim straight towards his partner. The foreign agent didn’t even blink, a mocking smirk taking over his face. “You’re gonna shoot me? Ramsey’s lap dog? Mr. ‘prim and proper’ who’s practically married to the rulebook?” Gavin turned away, snorting derisively, “Give me a bloody break.”

Ryan gripped the gun impossibly tight, every nerve in him screaming to pull the trigger. The urge passed and he lowered the gun slightly. Gavin must have heard him shift because he laughed – a high, contemptuous noise that swept away the last vestiges of Ryan’s self-control.

“Whatever you say.” Ryan spat out, snapping his gun back up.

Gavin whirled around at the noise and the older man wasted no time shooting the Brit in the face.

 

**xiii.**

“You shot. Another agent. In the face.”

Geoff had his head in his hands, tattooed fingers screwing his hair into tight ringlets. He finally lifted his eyes from his palms, blood-shot gaze miles from impressed as he waited for a response from Ryan.

The assassin sat across the desk from the guild master, arms crossed and lips stuck out in a full-blown pout. The agent was aware of how much he looked like a petulant child, and he very much didn’t care.

“Whatever.” Ryan grumbled, refusing to meet the stony glare of the older assassin, “Two deaths in one night. Not like he hasn’t done it before.”

Geoff slammed his fist down onto the table, causing Ryan to jump halfway out of his seat. “Dammit Haywood this isn’t a joke!” Ryan’s heart thudded heavily in his chest and he hung his head, waiting for Geoff to rip him a whole new asshole.

The guild master stood up and began to pace around the meeting table, shoving an already bitten nail between his teeth. “You’re one of my best Ryan but this is a professional syndicate. We follow a creed and shooting your partner point blank _in the fucking face_ is sure as hell not in the creed.”

Ryan had the grace to look sheepish but still refused to say anything. Geoff sighed after several moments of expectant silence and slumped back into his chair. “You have to apologise. We have to maintain a civil and professional environment or this whole thing just won’t work.”

Ryan huffed out a protest but Geoff held up a finger. The elder assassin was staring hard at the table but Ryan could still see his facing rapidly changing colour.

Ryan released a long breath, throwing his hands up in defeat before wrenching out his phone. “Fine,” he muttered, “Fucking fine.” He tapped heavily at the screen, the crack of fingertips against glass almost deafening in the silent room. He slammed the phone down in front of Geoff, entirely surprised when the whole thing didn’t shatter.

**_To:_ ** _Gavin Free_

_Sorry for shooting you in the face and leaving you dead in the forest with no ride home._

_My bad._

_R._

Geoff peered at the message from between his fingers, an exasperated croak escaping him. “Yep.” His voice had taken a familiar shrill tone, “That’s as fucking professional as we’re ever gonna get at this godforsaken place.”

 

**xiv.**

“Get a grip Haywood.”

It was past midnight by the time Ryan made his way to the training gym. Sleep had eluded him for the better part of an hour while a restless energy danced through him. He’d carried out a quick solo hit in the afternoon and the adrenaline had yet to drain away. A few knife throws and hand to hand combos would hopefully use up all the fight he had left.

The gym doors swung opened silently on well-oiled hinges but he stopped in the entrance way. It seemed Ryan wasn’t the only who was having trouble sleeping.

Gavin didn’t even notice when Ryan stepped further into the room, closing the door and dropping his duffel bag to the floor. The Brit stood in the middle of the room, still for the time being. Numerous canvas targets were set up around the gym at varying distances and heights, already punctured by two or three arrows each.

Gavin clutched a carbon fibre recurve bow in one hand, leather cuffs wrapped protectively around his slender wrists. A quiver was slung across his back, a dozen or so black arrows nestled inside the hard-shell case.

Gavin took one large breath before raising the bow. Ryan watched lean shoulders pull back into a perfect draw, tan skin stretching beneath a grey tank.

A second later and a switch flipped – the Brit exploded into a flurry of motions, nocking and drawing arrows seamlessly between firing perfect shots into _all_ the targets. The foreign assassin’s face was a determined mask, eyes narrowed in concentration and sweat shining on a flawless brow as he spun to his final target.

Gavin waited a beat to release arrow, emptying his lungs before loosing the arrow with barely a whisper – it thudded moments later into the bullseye of the farthest target. The Brit stood still for several moments, head dropped and chest rising and falling with steadied, measured breaths.

Gavin flinched slightly and seemed to break whatever trance had captured him, he strode quickly towards the edge of the gym were his bag was dumped. He un-strung the bow and strapped it to the back of the quiver. The assassin hesitated a moment before pulling a pack of cigarettes from his bag.

The sharp _schnik_ of the lighter echoed in the spacious room before Gavin took a long draw and exhaled the smoke. Ryan finally decided to make his move.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” He called out, resisting the urge to grin when the Brit jumped with fright. The other man eyed him shrewdly, before his neutral expression broke out into a bitter smile. Gavin’s lips twisted to the point that it looked painful while he gave an exaggerated shrug.

“Doesn’t matter.” He answered quietly, “Not gonna kill me now is it.” There was something haunted in Gavin’s eyes as he held Ryan’s steady gaze, but there was still a flash of his familiar defiance as if the brunette was daring Ryan to argue with him about it.

Ryan walked forward, never breaking eye contact as he stepped into the other’s space. The two men breathed in each other for several tense seconds, the acrid stench of smoke souring the air before Ryan gently plucked the glowing cigarette from between plump lips and crushed it underfoot.

“Still doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take care of yourself.” He murmured, heart thumping irregularly as realised how uncomfortably _intimate_ their position felt.

Gavin was looking up at him, pinned like a butterfly on a corkboard by Ryan’s stare. Thick lashes fluttered as Gavin blinked slowly, he swallowed hard before stepping away. He turned his back on Ryan and bent down to pull a towel from his gym bag.

Ryan’s eyes in no way wandered over defined calves and an exposed waist as Gavin’s shirt slipped down his back.

“I got your text.” The younger assassin finally broke the heavy silence, twirling back to face Ryan as he rubbed the towel his face and the back of his neck. They both just _looked_ at each other, both waiting for the other to cut the tension that was building once more.

Gavin let a tiny smile break through and Ryan shot one back. Gavin giggled slightly and Ryan couldn’t help the toothy grin that stretched across his face. He glanced around the room, gesturing vaguely at the targets surrounding them. “So what’s all this then?”

The Brit rubbed at his arm self-consciously, hunching his shoulders a little as he looked back at his bow briefly. “You mean the whole Robin Hood thing?”

Ryan nodded, moving over to run his hands along the sleek surface of the bow once Gavin indicated his permission. “Yeah. You’re more of a dead eye than Ray. Bit of a surprise, considering…” He broke off, not wishing to bring up _the incident_.

Gavin laughed softly, the noise putting a tingling warmth in Ryan’s cheeks. He began wandering around to all the targets, tugging the arrows out with a reverent care that Ryan rarely ever saw in the assassin’s actions.

“I’ve always been something of a good shot.” The Brit mused, returning to Ryan to place the barbed arrows back in their quiver. “I never said I wasn’t. Just that I don’t like to use guns.”

Ryan tilted his head in confusion but tactfully chose to not push the subject. “Still,” he ventured hesitantly, moving to help Gavin as he took down the targets, “Don’t really get how you die so much when you can move so fast.”

Gavin stiffened and Ryan cringed inwardly as he noticed the palpable mood shift. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Gavin spoke sharply, eyes dark as he glanced at Ryan before turning back to the target.

“I don’t know…” Ryan floundered, not particularly keen on sparking another argument between them, especially when a bow sat ten metres away that only one of them knew how to use. “That you…’carking’ it all the time – as you say – isn’t really a result of your incompetence?”

Gavin dropped the target he was carrying with a thud, moving to face Ryan with folded arms. “Spit it out Haywood, stop talking in circles.” That familiar cold, mocking tone was beginning to filter through and Ryan fired up. He was starting to learn that _nothing_ set him off like Gavin.

“Alright.” He snapped out after a pause, “I’ll bite.” He pushed his finger into Gavin’s chest, stepping forward at the same pace the other backed up. “ _You_ like dying.”

Gavin raised an eyebrow, hiding his reaction almost flawlessly. But Ryan was a trained assassin, it was his job to let nothing escape his notice. Anguish flickered briefly through green-gold eyes and Ryan latched onto the weakness.

The Brit snorted, rolling his eyes heavily, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Ryan stepped more into the other’s personal space, sneering at the uncomfortable look that shuttered down Gavin’s face. “How on earth did an assassin who likes to die make his way into the immortal department? Whose dick did you have to suck for them to turn a blind eye to that giant defect?”

Something reminiscent to hurt danced in the younger’s fierce glare before fists were slamming into his chest and Ryan was shoved backwards.

“Fuck off.” Gavin hissed, baring his teeth in some sort of animalistic show. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“What are you?” Ryan questioned cruelly, not entirely sure why he was pushing the other agent so far, “Are you some sort of masochist? Don’t have the balls to just ask someone to cut you up?”

The Brit’s face coloured beautifully in his indignation, cheeks puffing out and fingers flexing as Gavin fought the urge to lash out – Ryan didn’t miss the quick glance back to his bow.

 The older agent shook his head derisively, tone growing more sardonic by the second as he continued to taunt the other man. In the back of his mind he felt the frantic need to end the situation before he really hurt the younger, but his rationality was silenced by the temptation to keep coaxing such dramatic reactions from the Brit.

“Don’t be a pussy Free.” Ryan set his face with a smug smirk, relishing in the mix of anger and apprehension that warred over the other’s features. “Admit you like the pain.”

“ALRIGHT!” Gavin roared, stamping his foot down heavily. “Bloody hell, alright.” Ryan remained respectfully silent as the younger seemed to mull over his words. “It’s not the pain…you – you wouldn’t understand.”

The Brit picked up his bag, turning towards the exit, apparently under the impression that the conversation was over. Ryan went after him, snatching the bag out of his grip and dropping it back down.

“What is it like then?”

Gavin regarded him for a moment, lips pursed and eyes flicking rapidly between Ryan and the door. It took a couple of minutes for Gavin to overcome whatever inner turmoil he was dealing with before the Brit sighed and waved his arms in exaggerated gestures above his head.

“It’s like bloody Plath innit?” Gavin looked expectantly at him but Ryan could only give him confusion. The younger man’s eyebrows rose higher and higher as Ryan continued to not deliver the desired reaction.

“…Excuse me?” Ryan racked his brain for any logical connection but gave up fairly quickly – Gavin and logical connections didn’t seem to mix.

“Sylvia Plath!” Gavin yelled out, laughing hysterically as he paced in circles. “Have you not ever read Ariel?! Daddy? Lady Lazarus?”

“Of course I have!” Ryan defended, matching the brunette in tone and volume, “I’m not a heathen.”

“Then what don’t you get!?” Gavin cried, eyes wild and hair tousled up from the continuous mussing it was receiving.

“What is there to get!?” Ryan yelled back.

Gavin made a noise halfway between a sob and a laugh before turning to face the door.

“ _I have done it again.”_  Gavin began, voice wavering with his laboured breaths, “ _One year in every ten.”_

“I know the poem Gavin. You don’t need to patronise me.” Ryan spat out, he was growing tired of the cryptic clues and vague explanations.

“Well clearly you don’t.” The Brit seemed to be trying very hard to keep his voice calm and steady. He heaved in another breath before continuing.

“ _Dying. Is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well._ ” The younger spun around to face Ryan, swaying slightly and almost singing in a haunted tone as he recited the poem.

“ _I do it so it feels real.”_

He raised his eyes slowly, expression near-serene as he locked gazes with Ryan.

“ _I do it so it feels like hell._ ”

Ryan waited for several moments but apparently Gavin had finished his impromptu performance.

“Okay.” He ventured slowly, walking carefully forward in an effort not to spook the Brit. He gently took hold of the other’s shaking arms, squeezing slightly at the hyper-warm skin. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“I’m numb Ryan.” Gavin whimpered, head dropping heavily as all energy seemed to leave the other man. “When I get hit by a bullet…slashed by a knife. It _burns_ just for a moment and I feel alive. I feel in control.”

Ryan furrowed his brow, pulling back to catch the other’s eye. “Control?”

Gavin nodded, biting his lip and reaching up to wrench at his hair. “Don’t you feel it too? Have you never asked why we can’t die? Never questioned what we’re really meant to do with this grand bloody unending existence.”

The Brit pulled away from Ryan’s loose hold and resumed his pacing. Ryan watched his agitated steps silently, backing away as Gavin became increasingly irritated.

“Gavin.” The older agent pressed gently, “I understand how it feels to be helpless. But a person can’t live on pain. It isn’t the pinnacle of our experience.”

“Then what is?” The younger man sounded exasperated and weary, as if he’d had this conversation a thousand times before. “I’ve tried everything Ryan. And all I feel is cold…and tired.”

He broke off his ramble as Ryan snagged him around the waist, halting his circular pacing. “Ryan, come on.” Gavin had gone quiet now, all the fight drained out of him, “I just wanna go to bed.”

Ryan dragged him backwards, pushing him up against a stack of gym mats. “Not just yet.” He breathed, caught in the other’s mesmerised gaze. “Let me try something.”

He pressed their lips together, pulling away at the jolt of electricity that seemed to shoot through him. Gavin looked just as surprised.

He dropped his hands from the Brit’s waist, still reeling like a teenager from a simple peck. _Pull yourself together Haywood. Ray was right, you are a 13 year old girl._

Slender fingers suddenly shot out to bury themselves in dirty-blonde locks and Ryan was yanked forward, mouth colliding with Gavin’s in a brutal kiss.

The brunette drew back an inch to whisper in Ryan’s ear before diving back in.

“I felt _that.”_

**xv.**

“Morning…”

Gavin didn’t respond but seemed to snuggle unconsciously closer to the arms and chest pressed against him. Ryan rolled over, pulling the warm body with him. He arched his back slightly, stretching out the kinks that had developed over night.

His gaze drifted up a naked back – tapered waist and bronze skin – along skinny shoulders and up to a tousled head of chestnut hair.

The assassin smiled faintly, moving to press his nose into the fluff that sprouted out from Gavin’s temples and take in his scent. Fresh grass and cinnamon flooded his senses and Ryan sighed happily, letting his heavy eyes slowly close.

His door creak opened and he resisted the urge to bolt upright.

There was some shuffling before a huge intake of breath.

“Holy shit.” Ryan heard Ray whisper as he crept closer. There was a pause, quickly followed by a camera snap.

“Michael owes me 100 dollars and like 50 blow jobs for this.”

 


	2. The soldier

_Because I could not stop for Death –_

_He kindly stopped for me –_

_The Carriage held but just Ourselves –_

_And Immortality._

**i.**

_“Holy shit.”_

_“Michael owes me 100 dollars and like 50 blowjobs for this.”_

Gavin groaned sleepily, turning his head to nuzzle further into a soft-cotton t-shirt. Calloused fingers traced up and down his back, dancing along the line of his briefs for a moment before settling across his ribs.

Gavin opened his eyes to find his face tucked under a stubbled jaw and his nose pressed into clean skin.

Ryan drew away, smiling blearily down at the Brit. “Morning.”

Gavin hummed back, rolling off the older man’s chest so he could stretch and make several high pitched cat noises. He turned his head to look at Ryan who was already staring at him, a soft look in his eyes.

“Sleep well?” The other agent murmured, reaching out to push Gavin’s fringe out of his face. Gavin crawled closer, resting his head Ryan’s chest and sighing in contentment.

“Yeah. I always sleep well after a good make-out.” Ryan huffed out a laugh, digging his fingers into Gavin’s side to make him flinch.

“We should make-out and fall asleep more often.”

Gavin smiled into the older man’s covered pec, blinking heavily and lashes falling low as the warmth and smell of Ryan coaxed him back to sleep. “Hey…” Gavin slurred, waiting for Ryan’s barely audible response.

“What’s up?”

“Did – uh, Ray take a picture of us and then run off to tell Michael we boned?”

Ryan tightened his hold around Gavin’s waist, rolling the Brit further into his side. “Yeah, he sure did. Now go back to sleep.”

 

**ii.**

“You couldn’t have waited two more fucking days to get your fucking dick wet?”

Gavin scooted himself further into the back of couch, pulling his lips between his teeth in an effort not to laugh.

Michael wasn’t even looking at him, thumbs hammering heavily on his controller and eyes glued to the television. He continued to mutter angrily to himself as he navigated the level.

“Me and Ryan didn’t do anything Michael. We were just sleeping.”

The Jersey agent didn’t respond, concentrating on navigating a virtual bear up what appeared to be a rigid scarf covered in musical notes and feathers. “Bunch of fucking bullshit, bitch should owe _me_ 100 dollars for fucking swapping partners so he could get laid.”

“I can hear you Michael.”

Michael’s hands twitched and the bear slipped off the pipe that was sticking out of a giant snow man’s mouth.

“Motherfucker!”

A giggle slipped through Gavin’s clenched teeth and Michael let go of the controller for a split second to punch the Brit in the arm. “Shut up and watch me smash at Banjo Kazooie or go out and get me 100 dollars.”

Gavin settled back into the couch, still giggling softly while Michael began the tedious task of walking back up the snowman. After a moment, the other man shot him a small grin, reaching out shove him affectionately.

“I’m happy for you though boi.”

Gavin pulled his legs up onto the couch and tucked his chin over his knees. On screen the bear did a dance while a bird burst out of his back pack and gulped down a jigsaw. “Yeah.” He said softly, moving in so he could lean back against Michael’s shoulder. “Me too boi.”

 

**iii.**

“See if you can beat this.”

A Chesire moon grinned down on the rooftops as Gavin and Ryan slunk their way across. Both had their cowls pulled up tightly against the biting Autumn air. Ryan leapt the sizeable gap between buildings, rolling on the landing with a grace that was uncharacteristic for his bulk.

Even in the half-gloom Gavin could see the older man’s challenging grin as he straightened up and beckoned for the Brit to jump. Gavin bounced on the balls of his feet, the adrenaline of the job starting to rush through him.

He backed up several paces, feeling the gravel shift beneath his shoes. The spikes dug into the soft surface as he started his run-up, causing clouds of dust to rise in plumes behind him. Gavin launched into the air, back arched and knees bent in perfect long-jumping form. The long tails of his cloak streamed behind him, strung bow bouncing against his back and the wind pulling tears from his eyes.

Gavin felt _alive._

The cold stung and air rushed by as he plummeted back towards the roof. He could hear the low hum of night traffic and Ryan’s breathless laugh as he landed beside him. The impact jarred him slightly, and a shiver rolled through his body. The Brit took a breath in an effort to calm his racing heart.

A large hand pressed into his back, warmth bleeding through both layers of Gavin’s clothes as Ryan moved to help him up. The older man’s eyes were shining from beneath his hood and Gavin lost himself in them for a moment.

“You okay?” There was a small trace of concern in Ryan’s voice and Gavin was quick to dispel it. He smiled brightly up at the taller assassin, smoothing palms over his chest before leaning up to give him a quick kiss.

“Yeah I feel bloody brilliant.”

Ryan moved in closer again, brushing their noses and sliding his hands down to rest on the Brit’s hips. “I’m glad you’re _feeling_ good.” Gavin didn’t miss the other’s emphasis, but he could only grin and lean into the others warmth.

A muffled clang and shouting broke the pair apart with a jolt.

Both assassins dropped into a crouch as three men emerged onto the roof directly opposite them. Gavin pulled his bow from his back slowly, nocking it silently as he inched towards the ledge. The building was several metres lower and to the right of their position.

He drew the bow, taking several deep breaths from his diaphragm to steady himself. Ryan crawled up beside him, staying quiet in an effort not to break the Brit’s focus.

“Wind 15 knots, blowing to the south-east.” Gavin kept mumbling to himself, adjusting the laser sight to account for the distance he was away from the target.

The faint trill of a ringtone broke the night-air below them and the hit stepped away to take a call. Gavin drew in a final breath, adjusting his aim one final time before releasing the bow in one fluid motion.

There was a beat where neither assassin moved, watching the carbon-fibre arrow arc through the air, dropping down and slightly to the right per Gavin’s calculations.

The arrow pierced clean through the man’s neck in a spray of blood and he dropped to the ground. Gavin had already slung his bow on his back, running in a half-crouch back across the rooftops. The crunch of heavy footsteps told him Ryan was close behind.

“You go ahead to the car. I’ll take care of the two bodyguards.” Ryan was already clambering over the side of the building, calling the instructions over his shoulder.

Gavin exhaled, waiting for the sounds of Ryan dropping down the levels of fire escapes to die away before following after him. The walk back to the car was silent, the CBD of the city winding down as the minutes ticked away to morning.

Shuffling footsteps suddenly sprung from behind and Gavin spun around, both wrist blades sliding out with a whisper of steel against steel.

A man stood at the edge of the alley - a scruffy beard and tattered jacket hanging loosely off his frame – with a knife held out shakily in front of him. Gavin didn’t move, eyes flicking rapidly around the alley as he catalogued all avenues of escape.

He held out a placating hand, well aware that his own hidden blade was catching the moonlight.

_I’m not killing anyone else tonight._

“We’re all right mate. Just let me pass and no one gets hurt.”

The man shook his head, lurching forwards and switching his grip on the knife. Gavin shifted into a combat stance, quickly assessing how easy it would be to wall jump over the mugger’s head.

“Don’ want any trouble now.” The man’s accent was thick and slightly slurred; Gavin was certain he’d be able to smell alcohol on his breath if he were any closer. “Just drop any valuables and we’ll let you go.”

“Wait.” Gavin countered, flicking his wrists to make his blades even more noticeable. “Mate, you’re drunker than you think. We’ll? There’s only two of us.”

He tensed, bending his knees with the intention to grab a windowsill that jutted out above his head and swing his way out of the alley.

The man cackled, straightening up suddenly and twirling the knife from hand to hand with much more coordination than an intoxicated person should possess. “That’s we’re you’re wrong love.”

Gavin was yanked from behind as another assailant grabbed at the bow strapped to his back. He was thrown to the ground, all the air driven from his lungs as two men leered above him.

Nimble fingers searched him quickly, snatching both his wrist blades and phone before moving to linger along his waist. Gavin bared his teeth, moving his feet under him to kick himself upwards.

A heavy boot slammed into his ribs and pushed him back to the ground. Gavin gasped for air, a sharp pain flaring every time he tried to take a breath. The original mugger leant over him, grinning filthily as dark eyes appraised his body.

“Such a shame.” He muttered before jamming his knife up into Gavin’s heart.

His vision started going black almost instantly, world narrowing down to shallow breaths and a numbness flowing through him.

 _Strange,_ Gavin mused to himself as he bled out alone in a dirty alley.

_For once I feel nothing._

 

**iv.**

_The rattle of machine guns and the distant boom of shell explosions set Gavin’s teeth on edge. The noises were the constant, bone-jarring melody of the battlefield._

_The British soldier shifted in the mud, adjusting his rifle to a more elevated position on the sand-bags. He narrowed his eyes, blood-pounding in his ears as he tried to spot movement across the flat expanse of no-man’s land._

_Mounds of tangled wire, horse carcasses and intermittent piles of bodies littered the muddy plain and all served to obscure the upper lip of the front-line German trench._

_Gavin froze as watery sunlight glinted off something beyond the German defences. He fired without thinking, the resounding crack masked by the nearby explosion of a shell._

_The movement ceased and Gavin resumed his sweep of the battlefield, shivering slightly as the chill of the mud began to set into his skin._

_“B! B! Get down from there!”_

_Gavin jolted from his prone position as Dan came scrambling up the embankment, the taller soldier diving for the sandbags when a machine gun sprayed in their direction._

_“B!” Gavin exclaimed, pulling his rifle down and crouching beside his friend, “What are you doing up here?”_

_“Southern end of the trench has been breached.” The dark-haired Brit panted, already moving to set his bayonet, “We’ve been ordered to evacuate to the utility trench.”_

_Explosions nearby sent mounds of mud and rock shooting into the air, followed by shouts in a foreign tongue._

_Two sets of terrified eyes met before both British soldiers jumped from the sniper’s perch and began hurtling through the labyrinth of half-collapsed trenches. Gavin’s rifle thudded against his back, driving the air from his lungs as quickly as he could gasp it in._

_Dan wheezed beside him, yelping when a burst of bullets thudded into the supporting beams above him._

_A thud followed by a cry from Dan forced Gavin to halt his careening escape and turn around. The taller soldier was tugging desperately at a coil of barbed wire that had ensnared his ankle. The metal teared at his fingers and palms and only pulled tighter as Dan thrashed on the ground._

_Gavin rushed to the aid of his friend, knees sliding in the mud as he too started wrenching at the wire. A grenade landed in the mud beside them and the pair froze, horrified gazes meeting as time seemed to slow._

_“GO!” Dan screamed, shoving at Gavin frantically. “Go B! Fucking go!”_

_The sniper didn’t think, scrambling away from the explosive while Dan tried to do the same in vain._

_The grenade detonated in an explosion of rushing air, shrapnel and heat. Dan roared in pain as he was swallowed by the inferno but Gavin was frozen, dazed._

_The fire tore at his skin, peeling it away to leave him raw and bloody, the force itself shoving him backwards into the wall of the trench. A line of German soldiers rounded the corner while Gavin struggled to his knees._

_They were all shouting, harsh voices combining into a discordant buzz of white noise as numerous guns snapped up to aim at him._

_Gavin paid no heed to them, shuffling slowly towards Dan’s burnt form. They fired all at once, the bullets ripping through him like he was made of nothing more than paper._

_“B…” He whimpered pitifully, reaching out towards the other Brit’s body. Another bullet collided with his neck and he collapsed to the ground. Blood filled his mouth and he choked, gurgling in the mud while the German soldiers stepped over his body._

_A roar filled Gavin’s ears as another grenade went off, more heat rushing over him and setting all his nerves alight. The Brit tried to scream but only coughed out a mouthful of blood._

_He turned to face Dan, closing his eyes as everything faded into a numbing silence._

**v.**

“B…”

Gavin woke slowly.

His head pounded painfully and his mouth felt thick and dry. He was slumped in the passenger seat of a car, his face resting against the chilled glass of the window.

He groaned lowly, his chest throbbing with the ache of a now phantom knife wound. His shirt was ripped and covered in muddy bloodstains but the skin was mainly healed.

Ryan glanced at him quickly while he changed lanes, lips pressed into a thin line and brows furrowed with disapproval.

“Sleeping Beauty finally awakes.” He smiled tightly at the Brit, turning back to face the road. The clicking of the indicator was the only sound that filled the car. Gavin didn’t comment, turning to watch the streetlights pass by in flashes and blurs of colour.

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” He heard the creak of leather as Ryan tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Honestly, I didn’t.”

“I know.” Ryan murmured, reaching out to press a palm against Gavin’s shoulder. “I just…worry.”

“I’m fine Rye.” Gavin tried to keep the overwhelming weariness he was feeling from bleeding into his voice, but the concerned looks the older man kept shooting him told him that Ryan probably didn’t buy it.

“I’m fine.” He repeated, more firmly this time. “I promised you I wouldn’t.”

Ryan’s shoulders dropped from their hunched position, and he laughed a little as he relaxed.

“Just wait till I tell everyone you got mugged on mission.”

Gavin screwed up his nose in embarrassment, whining childishly when Ryan’s chuckles grew louder.

“I was trying to be nice.” He grumbled, crossing his arms and kicking his feet up on the dashboard. The older assassin smacked them down almost instantly without turning away from the road.

“That just makes it worse idiot.”

Gavin caught the flash of his grin as they passed by another streetlight and he kicked his feet up once again. “You’re the idiot…idiot.”

Ryan pushed his legs back down, pulling in smoothly to the syndicate underground carpark. He shoved the car back into first gear before switching off the ignition.

A gentle hand wrapped around Gavin’s head and pulled him forward. A tender kiss was pressed into the Brit’s dirty hair before the hand dropped to rest on the back of his neck. Ryan’s eyes were soft when he drew back, a reverent smile gracing his handsome features.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and to bed…idiot.”

 

**vi.**

“Do you ever…wish things were different.”

Gavin shook himself slightly, lifting his heavy head off Ryan’s shoulder.

“What?” He mumbled, dropping back down to the older man’s chest when lips pressed into his hair and hands started petting down his sides once. Ryan didn’t answer him immediately, focused on smoothing out the wrinkles in Gavin’s sleep shirt.

“Do you ever wish…” The assassin sighed, shifting slightly so he could gather the Brit even tighter in his arms, “…That you just never woke up after the first time.”

Gavin barely caught the words as Ryan pressed his mouth into his neck, curling protectively around the brunette when he felt the younger man tense.

Gavin couldn’t quite see the room anymore, everything blurring into a mesh of colour as he was pulled back into that familiar scene.

_GO!_

_Go B! Fucking go!_

Ryan’s chest began to heave beneath him, breath coming out in tiny gasps. Gavin turned to find a similar haunted look in his partner’s eyes as he gazed unseeing at the ceiling. He grabbed at the older man’s hands, pulling them down and back around his waist.

“Ryan. Come back to me. We’re here, I’m here.” He pressed fleeting kisses all around his face. Stubbled jaw, cheeks, lips, forehead. Ryan quietened down, slumping forward and pressing himself into Gavin’s chest.

“I just wish I could forget it _._ ”

Gavin didn’t need to ask what the other assassin meant by _it_. He assumed every immortal faced the same plaguing memories.

_“B!” He’d cried, covered in mud and too weak to lift himself from the ground. “Come on B, you need to wake up!”_

“Yeah.” He mumbled, shuffling them both down so they lay tangled under the covers. “Me too.”

 

**vii.**

“I told you I’d take you out to dinner.”

The foreshore was alight with activity – couples out for evening strolls and children chasing each other across the sand – everyone was making use of the sun’s dying light.

It was nice to be out - together and not clinging to the shadows – with hair gelled up and smart button-ups tucked into jeans. Gavin could see Ryan’s eyes for once, shining and happy without the familiar shadow of a deep cowl to keep them hidden. He breathed in the sharp sea air, grinning broadly at the mess of orange and gold that was painted in the sky.

Ryan slipped his hand into Gavin’s, shooting him a secret smile as he led them over to a park bench. A muscled arm was slung over his shoulder, pulling him closer and staving off the encroaching night chill.

“Mmm.” Gavin giggled, leaning in to smack a kiss on the other man’s cheek. “And Italian no less.”

Ryan smirked, tracing his fingers down the Brit’s lean arms so he could brush across the other’s thighs. Gavin jolted slightly, shooing Ryan’s hand away while smooth lips were pressed to his ear. “What can I say, I know how…romantic I need to be.” He broke off to nip gently along Gavin’s neck.

“Romantic for what?” Gavin shuddered out. Ryan chuckled deeply, entirely too aware of what that sound did to the younger man, before pulling back so Gavin could see his raised eyebrow. His back was turned to the setting sun and his very being seemed gilded by the flaming light. Blonde hair had turned to spun gold and silhouettes deepened the line of strong cheekbones and a sturdy jaw.

Gavin was breathless.

“Don’t worry.” He giggled, leaning in for another kiss. “I think I can guess.”

 

**viii.**

“Tell me what you want sweetheart.”

Gavin found himself spread-out on his own bed, his hips pinned and warm lips tracing a meandering path around his furred stomach. He jolted as teeth nipped at his protruding hip bones, glancing down to find Ryan’s electric gaze already on him.

“A-anything.” He panted, reaching down to bury his hands in impossibly soft hair. “Bloody hell Rye, anything. I just want you.”

The older grinned devilishly, crawling up Gavin’s body so he could hover above his lips. He pressed his hips down just to hear the Brit’s sweet groans.

Rough hands skated down his chest, wandering lower and lower until he heard the grating noise of his zipper and -

Gavin moaned loudly into Ryan’s mouth, moving to clutch at the other’s biceps as he began to flick his wrist.

“Yeah.” Ryan’s voice sounded strained, blown-pupils hungrily tracking Gavin’s every twitch and shiver. “We should have done this a long time ago.”

Gavin felt fire racing through his veins. He felt twin tracks of ice as the assassin’s eyes observed him like a starving hawk. He felt a growing warmth in his belly, spreading out and erasing everything that wasn’t Ryan, Ryan, Ryan.

“I have you too darling.” Ryan growled, dipping his neck so he could suckle tiny bruises into the younger’s skin.

“And I’m not letting go.”

 

**ix.**

“Dude for real, sit still for like one fucking second.”

Ray’s voice was monotone, eyes glued to the Call of Duty cut scene playing out on the television.

Gavin sat beside him on the couch. Fidgeting, scratching, fiddling.

He couldn’t stop himself. His skin has been crawling for days with a restless energy that never seemed to leave him. Even Ryan’s solid touch and calming presence could not settle him.

The older man was out on a surveillance mission anyway, not due to get back till after midnight. Gavin started drumming a rhythm on his knee, clicking his tongue and rolling his shoulders to drive away the uncomfortable feeling. The Brit felt like a stranger in his own body, rapidly losing control of his limbs.

“Bro I’m gonna cut you I swear to god.” He yelped when Ray kicked him in the shin, the Puerta Rican huffing pointedly when the brief distraction ended his killstreak in-game.

“Sorry X-Ray, I’ll get out of your hair.”

Gavin grit his teeth together, hunching his shoulders as he made his way out of the common room. He paused by the door, glancing back to find Ray now stood in front of the TV, fingers still flying nimbly over the controller.

“Hey, uh X-Ray?”

The younger agent made a displeased sounding grunt, refusing to look away as he lined up a head-shot.

“Is Michael still out of commission?”

“Yup, idiot has a 6 week rest period for tearing ligaments in his ankle.”

The itch died down for a moment, Gavin’s mouth going dry. “Right. Uh, tell Geoff I’ll take the Miller hit in his place.”

The Brit didn’t wait around for Ray’s grumble of acknowledgement, hurrying his way towards the armoury to grab his blades and cloak.

 

**x.**

It was nearing dawn by the time Gavin stumbled back into syndicate quarters, bruised and bloodied but filled with a calm that had eluded him for days.

Tattered clothes were dropped into the sink, the shower taps wrenched on with no actual care for the temperature. Gavin slumped himself against the cold tile wall, shower stream scalding as it pounded on his back and washed away all the dirt and flakes of blood that still clung to his skin.

Something that felt a lot like guilt clenched in his stomach, dispelling the peace that his night’s work had gifted him. He’d promised Ryan he’d be better, that his unhealthy habits were well and truly behind him.

_It was just a slip. It won’t happen again._

_He doesn’t have to know._

Said assassin was on his bed when the Brit made his way out of the bathroom. Gavin cut himself off mid-yawn when he spotted Ryan sitting straight-backed against his headboard. There was an accusing look in his eye as he inspected Gavin’s chest.

Some of his wounds had been deep and the puckered pink scars had yet to fade completely.

“Rough night?” Ryan was terse, deepening his frown when Gavin hurried to pull on a t-shirt and sweatpants to cover his skin.

“Yeah.” Gavin laughed out, voice unnaturally high and very clearly not helping to lessen Ryan’s suspicions.

“Uhuh.” Ryan refused to look away from the Brit, shuffling over slightly when the brunette climbed into the bed. “Whatever you say.”

His sarcastic tone irked something in Gavin and he pulled the blanket up roughly over himself. “Exactly.” He snapped, rolling over so he was facing away from his partner. “I’m tired and I would greatly appreciate it if you just dropped the whole thing.”

Ryan sighed heavily, placing a hand softly on Gavin’s shoulder but he was quickly shrugged away. There was a pause before he drew back, rising stiffly from the bed and turning off the light before leaving the room.

Gavin groaned into his pillow, screwing his eyes shut and forcing away the guilt that was tying knots in his stomach.

“I’ve done it again.” He spoke into the cotton, a familiar battlefield beginning to build itself behind closed eyes.

_One year in every ten._

  **xi.**

Gavin sat alone at the kitchen table, eyes focused on nothing in particular as he shovelled spoonfuls of frosted flakes into his mouth. He could barely even taste the sweetness between his pounding headache and dry throat.

He jolted his head up when someone else breezed their way into the kitchen, brushing past him and reaching for the coffee jug. Ryan spared him a glance, opening his mouth to speak but quickly deciding against it. Gavin ducked his head back down, staring firmly at the dregs of his cereal.

Things had been frosty between the pair for the better part of a week. Missions were tense and uncomfortable, conversations terse and disconnected. Gavin knew Ryan was waiting. For an apology or an admission he wasn’t sure, but he was certain he wasn’t about to give either.

The mutual ‘cold-shoulder’ has been taking a toll on both assassins. Gavin could spot bruises tattooed under the older man’s eyes which matched his own; they both looked haggard and ready to fall asleep on their feet.

Gavin also knew it was his fault. Ryan had tried to resolve the whole incident the morning after their argument, but the Brit had still felt defensive and skittish and brushed off any of his advances. Ryan had backed off and Gavin quickly found himself reacquainted with the older man’s more abrasive side.

“We’re killing that CEO tonight right.” Gavin broke the unbearable silence, shoving away from the table to go rinse his breakfast bowl. Ryan didn’t answer, burying himself in his coffee cup and avoiding Gavin’s eye.

“Well.” The Brit bit out, turning to fully face his partner. “Are we?”

Ryan slowly put down his cup, a vaguely uncomfortable look overtaking his features. “I am.” He said finally, bracing himself for the younger assassin’s reaction.

“You are.” Gavin repeated, stepping forward into the other’s personal space. “And what the bloody hell does that mean?”

Ryan bristled for a second, upper lip lifting in a snarl before he paused and took a slow breath. His whole body softened and he reached out to wrap his hands loosely around Gavin’s wrists.

“It means…” he began gently, waiting for the Brit to meet his eye before continuing, “That Geoff and I are worried about you and you’re suspended from field work until further notice.

Gavin wrenched his arms out of Ryan’s grip, speechless in his disbelief. “You can’t do that.” His voice shook with contained rage, “I _need_ to be out in the field.”

“You _need_ to go talk to Jack.” Ryan pressed firmly, arms folded over his chest. “You promised me you were better Gav. You promised me you’d get help.”

The taller man didn’t even flinch when Gavin struck at his chest but he did catch his fist when the Brit went to strike again. “I’m not fighting with you over this.” He grunted out, struggling to contain Gavin as he thrashed in his grip. “I care about you and I’m not letting you recklessly hurt yourself all the time.”

Gavin broke free and wasted no time slapping Ryan across the face. There was a beat of silence as both men just looked at each other, breathing heavily. Then Ryan’s entire face shuttered down into a neutral mask and he took Gavin to the floor. A knee was pressed into the small of his back and his arms were gathered behind him, but the Brit continued to struggle.

“You’re just messed up at the moment. I know Dan’s been bothering you.” Gavin stilled at the mention of _that name_. Ryan sighed, moving both of Gavin’s wrists to one hand so he brush the hair away from the younger’s eyes.

The gesture was so achingly familiar and Gavin wanted to cry. He didn’t, only growled and thrashed against Ryan’s grip.

“I hope you understand.” The older man just sounded tired now, mouth turned down and eyes sad as he let up and walked out of the kitchen.

 

**xii.**

“Don’t you think it’s time to let go of Dan?”

Gavin sat on the couch with his legs tucked up underneath him, scowling and refusing to meet Jack’s eye.

The quartermaster had a patient expression on his face, and he leant back in his armchair to wait for Gavin’s predictably catty response.

“I want to let go but he's there every time I bloody well die Jack. What do you want me to do?” Gavin made several huffing noises as he fidgeted on the couch. Jack rolled his eyes, almost 100 years old and he still held the emotional maturity of a pre-teen.

“Exactly.” He pressed gently, pulling off his glasses to wipe away the greasy smudges, “So I can’t understand why you feel the need to purposefully revisit him so much.”

Gavin’s mouth thinned even more, nose scrunched in annoyance as he tried to wriggle his way out of answering Jack’s admittedly obvious question.

“I don’t die just so I can see Dan.” The Brit muttered petulantly, refusing to meet the quartermaster’s eyes. “That’d be ridiculous.”

“Yes.” Jack deadpanned, well aware of the sarcasm that dripped from his tones. “Positively ridiculous.”

Gavin rolled suddenly so he was on his stomach and glaring at Jack with an irritated expression. “What are you trying to say?”

Jack folded his hands over his stomach, smirking knowingly at the younger man. “I think you know exactly what I’m saying.”

The assassin only scowled and began fidgeting on the couch again.

“You haven’t died in over two weeks now…”

“Haven’t had the option stuck at a bollocking desk all day.” Gavin muttered petulantly.

Jack graciously ignored the childish interruption. “Are you gonna tell me that the temptation is still as strong as it was when you were resurrecting almost every other day?”

Gavin heaved out a long, laboured sigh. “No…” The concession was so quiet Jack could have almost imagined it.

The quartermaster pushed himself from the armchair, resisting the urge to laugh at the younger man’s screwed up face. “Well I think you know how to fix this now don’t you?”

“Jack.” Gavin whined, balling up his hands and kicking out his legs in something reminiscent of a toddler’s tantrum. “Don’t make me say it.”

The quartermaster didn’t respond, staring steadily down at the assassin as he waited for him to crack.

“Fine!” The Brit groaned out, pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes. “You were right. Ryan was right.”

“And?”

Gavin made a few more grumpy noises before finally relenting. “I owe Ryan an apology…”

Jack smiled, feeling awfully like a mother who’d just finished scolding a child. In a way, he surmised, that’s exactly what he was.

He ruffled Gavin’s already messy hair, laughing at the high-pitched squawks the action induced. “Now you better kiss and make up when he gets back.”

 

 

**xiii.**

“Ryan asked how you were.”

Gavin tried not to flinch at the mention of the assassin’s name, choosing instead to continue filing the pile of mission briefs that had been left on his desktop.

“What did you tell him?” Gavin thought he kept his tone fairly neutral, Ray would have called it fantastically bitter.

The younger assassin had just come back from a job with Michael and was still dressed in combat clothes, his ever-present sniper rifle slung over one shoulder.

“That you were still being a petty bitch… _and_ that you finally went and talked to Jack about everything.” The Puerta Rican elaborated after Gavin turned away from his monitor long enough to shoot him a withering glare.

“He said that that made him happy…and that he misses you.” Gavin snorted, clicking a little too aggressively at an unopened email from the UK syndicate.

“Yeah, well, maybe if he ever actually came back to headquarters I’d be able to tell him I forgive him.”

His desk chair sunk slightly lower as Ray leaned down to blow a raspberry in his ear. “Aww, that’s sappy and gross and completely typical of two highly trained killers.”

Gavin shoved him away, pulling himself back towards the computer so the other agent couldn’t see his flaming cheeks.

“Yo Ray, did Ryan come back with you?”

Michael jogged into the room, cowl still pulled up and a carbine rifle swinging loosely by his side. Gavin froze at the slight note of panic in the New Jersey man’s voice.

Ray just looked confused, a bemused smirked twisting up his lips as he walked over to his partner. “No? Dipshit, you were meant to pick him up.”

“I know Ray! But he wasn’t there so I was coming to check you didn’t just grab him when you went past the rendezvous point.”

There was silence as all three men took a moment to put two and two together.  Gavin was the first to react, jumping out of his chair and storming past the other two assassins. Ray was close behind.

“Gavin, wait up.” Gavin did the opposite, speeding up his pace from a fast-walk to a jog. “Gavin!” Ray called, moving his legs significantly faster to keep up with his lanky companion, “You don’t even know where he went, you can’t just go after him.”

“No I don’t and yes I am.” Gavin shoved open the doors of the armoury, moving on autopilot to his locker and pulling out his cloak and combat pants. “But that’s why you’re coming with me.”

Gavin jammed on his wrist blades, snagging his bow and quiver from their respective hooks before turning to fix Ray with a determined look.

The Puerta Rican looked hesitant, nervously wringing his hands as he weighed up his options. The desperation in Gavin’s face and body language seemed to win him over. “Of course.” He said, moving to grab two silenced pistols for himself. “I’ll tell Michael to go notify Geoff you’ve been cleared for action.”

A brief spike of relief lessened the pressure that was in Gavin’s chest and he managed a weak smile. “You’re the best X-Ray.”

 

**xiv.**

“Three on the upper balcony, all armed.”

Ray’s steady voice in his ear calmed Gavin’s racing heart as he vaulted over the warehouse fence. He landed on all fours, pressing his palms and the soles of his feet firmly into the tarmac.

He caught movement in his peripherals and lifted his head slowly to observe the three guards Ray had identified through his scope. He spotted two half-full dumpsters underneath the veranda, giving enough height for someone to reach the metal support beams that jutted out from the second floor.

Gavin grinned, loosening both his blades in their sheaves and rolling his shoulders to work out any lasting stiffness. It had been weeks since he was allowed out for a mission and his blood was already singing.

A ragged cry pierced the still night air, something painfully familiar in the voice. Gavin exploded into action, sprinting the small distance to the dumpsters before hopping from the ground to the beams in two precise jumps. The balcony right above his head rattled as the guards walked by again and the assassin waited for them to pass before snagging the railing and swinging himself up.

He landed silently, stalking the three men in a half-crouch so he wasn’t caught in the weak light that filtered out of dirty windows. The men fell without a sound, throats slit and eyes growing dull as Gavin laid them gently on the ground.

Ryan cried out again and Gavin felt his heart lurch. “I’m coming Ry.” He whispered, briefly forgetting that Ray could hear his every word, “I’m coming soon.”

“He’s on the first-floor Gav.” Ray relayed, his pounding footsteps echoing in the earpiece. “I’m leading the perimeter guards away so there’s only five left. They’re all in the room with him. You’ll be able to see the from the rafters on the floor above.”

Gavin nodded even though he knew the other assassin had no way of seeing it. “Copy that. I’ll let you know when I’m engaging.” Ray’s laboured breathing was the only reply he got before he muted the ear piece.

He crept into the building, pulling out his bow and nocking it in one fluid motion. He inched his way along the wall till he got to the edge of the mezzanine where he flattened himself into the prone shooting position.

Ryan was in the centre of the room. Shirtless and covered in burn marks and scars. His arms were held behind him by two burly men and his head was shoved down into a trough of water by a third. The captured assassin was thrashing uselessly in their grip, legs spasming violently as he tried to gain solid footing.

In an instant he grew still, whole body going slack as he slumped down further into the water trough. Gavin took a few steady breaths, hands beginning to sweat and shake as he shifted to shoot the two men closest to the exit.

Ryan woke with a start, dragging his head out of the water and gasping fiercely.

“STARBOARD!” He cried out between shuddering breaths, “S-Starboard tack!”

The man who had a hold of Ryan’s neck laughed – high and cruel – before he shoved the assassin back down into the water again.

A deadly calm descended on Gavin, a blanket shrouding his mind and steadying his arm. He released the bowstring smoothly, arrow catching the furthest man in the side of the head. He nocked again, drawing in one breath and exhaling as he fired. He repeated this step, taking out the guards pinning Ryan to the ground in a blur of streaking arrows and a resulting spray of blood.

The last man let go of Ryan’s neck, letting his upper body fall forward into the water. Ryan had clearly drowned again.

Gavin didn’t waste a second firing at the man’s paper-white face, watching with grim satisfaction as  the barbed head pierced his frontal lobe and he collapsed to the ground. The Brit dropped his bow with a clatter and leapt from the protruding beams, rolling on the heavy impact.

He dragged Ryan out of the trough, dropping to his knees to grab at the older man’s sopping face and hair.

“Ry! Ryan, can you hear me?” He shook the other assassin, a cold hand of dread closing over his heart.

_What if he doesn’t wake up?_

Gavin sniffled, smoothing Ryan’s hair away from his eyes and tucking it behind his hear. “Ry.” He whimpered out, silently thankful he had thought to mute the comms beforehand. “You can’t leave me.”

Straw-spun lashes fluttered weakly before heavy lids dragged open and Gavin was gazing at twin jewels of sapphire. He sobbed and dragged Ryan’s torso further into his lap so he could bury his nose in the other’s chilled skin.

Shaky hands clutched at his back and Ryan began to shiver, choking out aborted words between irregular breaths.

“I was s-stupid.” He finally rasped out, pulling himself upright so he could look Gavin in the eye. “I thought I could pull it off solo. I’m so sorry.”

Gavin silenced him with a kiss to his still ice-cold lips. Ryan grabbed his face and kissed back fiercely, desperately. He pressed into Gavin’s warmth as shivers began to wrack his bulky frame. Eventually he broke away, pressing his forehead into the Brit’s shoulder and wrapping trembling arms around his waist.

Someone cleared their throat behind and the two men jolted apart. Ray was standing somewhat awkwardly at the entrance of the warehouse, blood dripped from both wrist blades and a phone was pressed to one ear.

“Sorry to break up the gay.” He called out cheerfully, waving the phone at them and mouthing the word ‘HQ’. “Geoff wants to know if Ryan is dead-dead or not.”

Gavin laughed, all the stress of the past few hours draining away to be replaced with something warmer, more peaceful.

“I’m fine Geoff!” Ryan’s raised voice was a little croaky, but his humourous relief was still evident. “I just drowned seven times in a row…” he paused so he could look down at Gavin with a soft smile, “But I’m just fine.”

Gavin grinned back before standing and helping to drag Ryan to his feet. The older man leaned on him breifly, but his strength returned quickly and he managed to straighten up and walk over to pull Ray into a bear hug.

“Eww!” The smaller man complained when he was released, “You made me all wet.” Ryan only laughed and pulled back in for an even tighter hug.

“Thank you, Ray.” He said sincerely, squeezing briefly as the Puerta Rican began to squirm. “For saving me and watching out for Gavin.”

Ray finally extracted himself from Ryan’s hold with a victorious whoop. His eyes were serious though as he held up his hand for a fist-bump. “Don’t sweat it bro, R and R connection for life.”

Ryan rolled his eyes good naturedly as he knocked his knuckles against the younger man’s. Gavin came up beside him, his bow now retrieved and slung across his back. Ryan took his hand and unabashedly brought it up to press a kiss to his upturned palm.

Ray didn’t miss the exchange, raising his eyebrow as he pulled a set of car keys from his pocket. “Hey, hey. You two can bone once you’re out of my car…and hearing shot.”

Ryan grinned and smacked an extra loud kiss on Gavin’s cheek in response.

“That’s gay.” Ray said, before adjusting his bright pink sniper rifle and skipping to the car.

 

**xv.**

“You’re so beautiful.”

Ryan groaned out beneath him, eyes half-closed and bottom lip pulled between his teeth as Gavin writhed atop him.

Rough palms cupped gently at his hips, following his movements as Gavin worked them both into a frenzy.

The Brit was mesmerised by the flush that had taken over the other man’s chest and face. He was stolen by the honeyed hair and golden stubble, the clear eyes that suddenly peeked out from under fluttering lids.

“I - ” He gasped out, faltering in his rhythm as Ryan reared up to wrap his arms around him and drag him further down into his lap. A warm mouth traced patterns along the tendons in his neck, hot, panting breaths landing on flaming skin.

“I lo -” Gavin’s voice was lost again in a cry of pleasure as Ryan snapped his hips up hard. The Brit’s vision whited out and he allowed himself to sink into the inferno that engulfed his body.

“I know.” Ryan grunted in his ear, grip tightening as he pulled them together one last time. “I know darling, me too.” The older man collapsed backwards, bringing Gavin with him to sprawl across his chest.

Gavin closed his eyes, listening to the thrumming beat of Ryan’s pulse slowly begin to settle. They both drifted, pressed as closed as could be and _finally, blessedly_ at peace.

 

Later, when both men were clean and collapsed on the bed, Ryan broke the silence.

“I found you a better poem.”

Ryan’s rumbling voice pulled Gavin from his doze. He moved his face from the other’s neck so he could blink sleepily up at him and yawn.

“A poem?” He sighed out, fingers digging into the soft skin of Ryan’s sides as he burrowed further into his chest.

The older man hummed, jostling the naked Brit slightly as he reached for his phone on the night stand. “It’s Dickinson.” He murmured, smiling into the tousled head of hair that tickled his chin. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Read it to me Ry.” Gavin’s voice was slurred and he was fast falling into the embrace of a well-needed sleep.

Ryan tapped gently against the younger man’s ribs as he began to read, voice a low croon into the other assassin’s ear.

_“Because I could not stop for Death…He kindly stopped for me…The Carriage held but just Ourselves…And Immortality.”_

The sweet rumble poured like honey down Gavin’s ears and his breathing began to deepen, eyes flickering closed after only the second stanza.

The Brit was fast-asleep by the time Ryan reached the final lines, he smiled gently and shifted so they both were curled together on their sides. He slipped his arms around Gavin’s tapered waist and took ahold of his left hand. Burying his nose in the younger’s clean hair and letting his tired eyes fall closed, he breathed out the last of the poem

 _“Since then – ‘tis Centuries – and yet…Feels shorter than the Day…I first surmised the Horses’ Heads…”_ He brushed his thumb tenderly across Gavin’s ring-finger, “… _Were toward eternity.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments always appreciated.  
> Cheers for reading :)


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